A collection of short stories, articles, and poems intended to entertain, inform, and consider.

Friday, August 7, 2015

MY CAR ACCIDENT - PART EIGHT

Recently, a follower of my blog wrote to me about the car accident
I was involved in back in July of 2007—I wrote about it, very briefly, in August
of last year, and you can read about it on my blog, if you want. She wanted to
know if the law suit was ever settled and how I was doing with the consequences
of that life-altering event.

Now, I’m not going to rehash that awful part of my life—I’m still
trying to get over the effects of it—but what I will do is continue from where
I left off. I guess I’ll call it Part Eight, since there were seven parts of
the whole when I wrote about it last year.

So, in May of last year, 2014, I had to go through a lot of
assessments because the lawyer representing the insurance company wanted to get
a thorough understanding of my current physical and mental state. And let me
tell you it wasn’t easy talking about all that shit again, and having people
poke and prod me like a cow in a slaughter house. The professionals who do
these types of assessments are there to prove one thing and one thing only,
that there’s nothing wrong with you. The morning of the first assessment I was
so nervous I threw up, but after that first assessment was over, the floodgates
opened once again and the other assessments were easier. It was a relief when I
was finished the last one.

The first exam, May 7, 2014, was with an Occupational
Therapist, who was, quite frankly, a bitch. The second exam, May 20, 2014, was
with a Vocational Rehabilitation Specialist, who was fairly professional. The
third exam, June 9, 2014, was with a Neuropsychologist. The fourth exam, June
12, 2014, was with a Psychiatrist, with whom I had met before, which was good,
because he had background information; therefore, my exam was short and sweet.
The final exam, June 19, 2014, was with a Physiatrist, who was a menopausal
bitch.

After the assessments were done, there were a few phone calls
from the lawyer’s office to discuss the results. Then, nothing.

My mother was invited up to see my son Confirmed and for his
Grade 8 Graduation. When school was over we all went on vacation to
Newfoundland. My partner stayed for one week and my son and I stayed for a
month. It was quite therapeutic. When we got back we got ready for my son’s
first year in high school. I was back in physiotherapy once again, and I was still
getting Income Replacement Benefits from the insurance company, and my partner
got a promotion and a better salary, so our financial situation improved.

I felt better about my relationship with my son and I pray
that this whole ordeal has not scarred him too badly. I tried my best to put
his needs first, and I hope that this will not affect him later in life. I know
first-hand that what a person goes through as a child impacts them later, when
they least expect it. He is honest with me and has grown into a wonderful
teenager with a life of his own. He is kind and considerate, loyal, and always
adapting and changing to fit this ever-changing world.

My relationship with my partner improved as well. It is hard
to trust someone again after an affair, but we chose to stay together and work
on it. When he finally gave up the bottle, we spent more time together as a
family—as you can see from some of my blog posts—than ever before. He is nicer
to me and treats me better, and vice-versa. We have come to be a family, not
perfect, but the road to recovery is never easy. This past Christmas was one of
the best we ever spent together, so good in fact that I had to write about it
on my blog.

In February of 2015, I got a call from the lawyer’s office.
There was a settlement offer and the lawyer had accepted it. It was finally
over. Almost eight years caught in a whirlwind and I was finally free of it. There
are no words to describe how I felt. It was not a great amount of money, but it
got our debt paid. We were no longer in the red.

As for my injuries…things will never be the same, but I have
managed to get myself off all the drugs, except for an occasional Advil. My
back and hip still bother me, along with my shoulder and foot, but I have
learned to live with it and have learned how to cope. The life I once knew is
gone. It took a long time to accept. I
no longer go to the physiotherapy clinic, but I do attend a healing clinic that
my friend opened up last year. I have learned how to meditate and exercise every
day. I am hopeful that I will soon be ready to try to enter the work force
again, if only on a part-time basis. Right now, I attend to my blog, take care
of my family, and most importantly, take care of myself. I am trying to get better
with my writing and am working on a novel, but it is hard, especially since I
cannot sit as long as I want to.

The one thing that still keeps me awake at night is: why? Why
did this happen to me? What purpose did it serve? So many things happened as a
result of it, like a chain reaction, just one bad thing after another. Some
people say that you have to go through bad things to get to some place better,
and maybe that’s what it was, but who can say for sure? It’s all a mystery, and
I guess a mystery it will remain, at least for now.

To the follower who wrote me and prompted me to write a final
part for that blog post I wrote last August, thanks for inquiring, and I hope
that you never ever go through such an ordeal.